A Day I Didn’t See Coming: Tears, Laughter, and Tiny Victories
Some days, I wake up thinking I have a plan. And then the universe laughs. Today was one of those days — a full mix of chaos, little surprises, and unexpected lessons, all rolled into one. I write this because maybe you’ve had one too, and maybe, like me, you want to feel less alone in it.
5:00 a.m. — Before the Dawn
The alarm buzzes. Husband’s already dressed, leaving for work in the dark. He kisses me goodbye while I’m half under the covers trying to ignore the thought of what the day will bring. My one-year-old starts with soft whimpers; the two-year-old joins in with theatrical shouting. By 5:07, I’m feeding both with yogurt (which ends up more on me than in them) and trying to get socks on squirming feet.
I pause at the window, feel the cold air, and think: One more hour of sleep would be nice. But there’s no more sleep. I’m a nurse, a mom, a caregiver, a cook, a cleaner, a grief listener, a love receiver and giver... all in one. So I stand, I move, I build a fortress of blankets around the baby, distract the toddler with a toy that squeaks, and I whisper prayers under my breath until the sun starts to rise.
Morning: Grandparents, Bad News, and Coffee
Breakfast is cereal with fruit this morning, but Dad work hours means lunch prep happens early. I slip out of the kitchen to check on Grandma. She didn’t sleep well. Her breathing heavier, she coughs. I help her up to sit, bring her water, adjust her pillows. Grandpa, always so stubborn, insists on reading last night’s headlines to me. He says, “The world is going to the dogs.” I laugh and say, “Maybe, but at least we haven’t lost our sense of humor yet.”
Then there’s a call from the clinic: a patient of mine tested positive for something concerning (I’ll keep the details vague here). I feel the weight. Work’s going to be long, emotionally dirty. But part of me is grateful—because even though it hurts, I know why I do what I do. I catch a moment of “hero” in myself, just for a second.
Midday: At Work, in the Trenches
Driving to the hospital, I sing a lullaby in my head — a promise to my kids: I’ll come back. I walk in, and the halls already smell sterile and sad. My shift starts with paperwork, vitals, comforting a patient whose family couldn’t visit. I hold hands, I wipe tears, I adjust sheets. I make small jokes with coworkers — “Hey, if coffee had an IV drip, we’d all be immortal.” They laugh. It feels good.
Between rounds, I get a message: my toddler smashed a glass of water onto Grandma’s new throw blanket. Grandma is okay but upset. The throw blanket was her favorite. I sigh but also smile — because disasters at home are inevitable.
After Work: The Collision of Worlds
Leaving the hospital, I pick up the kids. They’ve been with Grandma, who told me she “made them pancakes” — which turned out to be soggy pancakes because she forgot to flip them properly. My daughter looked at me like, “Mommy, pancake is flat, mommy?” We laugh. Son is covered in maple syrup and blue marker. The house smells like burnt toast, syrup, and baby-scent. It is perfect.
Husband gets home at 6. He walks in tired, shoulders slumped, but sees us and his face shifts. He tries to help with bath time, patiently combing tangles out of my daughter’s hair (which she resists like wrestling with a small, energetic cat). Grandpa watches, quietly smiling, obviously proud we’re still standing.
Evening News & My Hot Takes
After the kids are down, I scroll through the news. Three things stuck today:
Headline: “New Research Suggests Short Naps Boost Immune Systems in Adults.”
My thoughts: Sure. Tell that to nurses who haven’t had a nap in a week. I plan to nap someday, ideally when the moon aligns with my laundry being done.Headline: “Local Community Center Closing Its Doors Due to Budget Cuts.”
I feel angry. That center was where toddlers played, where grandparents met their friends, where I caught a few minutes of peace sometimes. When things like that disappear, pieces of life vanish too.Headline: “Major Car Manufacturer Announces Electric Models Will Be Standard by 2035.”
My opinion: Fantastic. But can it wait until I don’t need car maintenance in my life? Also wondering if electric cars have better cup holders. Because that’s life’s true measuring stick.
Night: Mess, Reflection, Tiny Victory
Dinner was a disaster— burnt edges on pasta, broccoli overcooked, but the kids ate SOMETHING, and Grandpa said it was “wonderfully peculiar.” Husband told me I cooked like Picasso: messy but passionate. That made me laugh so hard I spilled water on the floor. Again.
Bedtime rituals: toddler drama over night-light colors, baby refusing to sleep unless held. But at 9:30, both asleep. I tiptoe out, collapse on the couch. The house quiet except for the soft breathing of those I love. I look at my hands, think about how tired I am, how raw sometimes. But also how full.
Lessons from Today
It’s okay to feel worn out. Some days are going to hurt more than they should. That’s not failure—it’s being human.
Humor helps. If I can laugh at ruined pancakes, spilled marker, sad headlines, it makes the rest bearable.
Little moments matter: a quiet hug, Grandpa’s half-smile, toddler’s spontaneous laugh, baby’s fingers curling around mine. That’s where joy hides.
Community resources (like that community center) are lifelines. We need to fight to keep them alive.
“Mom guilt” is real. But sometimes, doing your best means accepting imperfect dinners and syrup on everything.
Final Thoughts
As I close today, I feel tired. My back hurts. There is unopened mail. Laundry is piled. But there is love, too. And I remember: this chaos I live isn’t what defines me. What defines me is showing up—every day—even when I don’t want to. Even when it seems like no one notices. Even when the world news feels heavy, and my grandparents struggle, and the kids cry, and the plans fall apart.
Because in the end, showing up is everything.
Here’s to tomorrow: may the syrup stay mostly on the plate. May we find one soft moment amid the noise. May we remember—when storms come, we’ve survived them before. And we will again.
